France's Les Fatals Picards
Behind the duff notes and political machinations of Eurovision, rare glimpses of continental solidarity sometimes emerge. In the mid-90s, as war raged in the Balkans, the studio audience would burst into spontaneous warm applause as the grainy image of the jury representative in Sarajevo flickered into view. But the rest of the time, Eurovision refuses to treat its politics, however pertinent, with any degree of seriousness.
Last year, the gay head of the Dutch jury interrupted the voting process to give his phone number to the handsome, soon squirming, Greek host, in front of millions of viewers. It's this kind of car-crash TV that will have households from Aberdeen to Ankara tuning in en-masse this Saturday. All the serious stuff, Brussels can keep it.
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